


Cause I Know You, Man

by spocksandsandals



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Episode: s12e08 The Gang Tends Bar, M/M, alternative ending, big feelings!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 14:14:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15731073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spocksandsandals/pseuds/spocksandsandals
Summary: In which Mac gives Dennis the RPG away from the rest of the gang.





	Cause I Know You, Man

**Author's Note:**

> heyyoo i got the inspiration for this on twitter and slammed the entire thing out in a few hours without a lot of proofreading so sorry if anything strikes you as off! anyway i love these two boys and i couldnt stop thinking about what would have happened if they had been alone when mac gave den the rpg so here u go! enjoyyy

“No, stop, goddamn it! I hate Valentine’s Day because you assholes never got me anything!” Dennis pauses as if he was taking a moment to think of what to say next. He pauses as if every word pouring out of his mouth wasn’t coming directly from his bared soul. “Okay, and I  _ have _ feelings. Of course I have feelings! I have  _ big _ feelings, okay? And it hurts.” Dennis stops. An intense wave of ‘ _ oh god, what have I done _ ’ washes over him. 

All his life, Dennis Reynolds has been composed. Through every fucking thing he’s been through, all the lies and the pain and the bullshit, Dennis Reynolds has been able to control himself. He can put aside the emotions and all the other the nonsense in his head and deal with the task at hand. It was a skill that most people would never be able to conquer. But, of course, because he was Dennis Reynolds, it was a skill that he conquered so well that it was ingrained into his personality until the apathy of his cold-blooded exterior that everyone knew so well seeped into every crevice of sensitivity left in him. 

Or so he thought.

He huffs and rolls his shoulders back. “You know what? I’m outta here.” He briefly throws his hands up in the air in typical Dennis Reynolds fashion (perhaps the only thing in this moment that he knows is in character) and storms out into the alleyway. The rest of the gang doesn’t bother going after him. All his life, they’ve known Dennis to be prone to meltdowns when things didn’t go his way, but not like this. God, not like this.

He stumbles into the alley to see Mac hunched over that goddamn crate and almost screams. Just one more asshole in between him and the pillow back at the apartment he plans on wailing into until he falls asleep, or at least until he grows temperate enough to get up and nurse a bottle of vodka for the rest of the night. 

“Oh, hey!” Mac says. The enthusiasm in his voice makes Dennis want to vomit. But that’s Mac, always full of energy, always full of passion, always...

“I was gonna bring the crate inside, but, y’know, I guess if you’re here...” Mac says.

“What?” The word comes out as less of a question and more of a plea. Dennis is exhausted. He’s done. He doesn’t have the time or energy for any more of this bullshit. “I don’t give a shit about this crate, Mac! There’s nothing in it!”

Mac looks at Dennis like he can see straight through him, right into the center of his soul. “Just open it.”

“You want me to open the crate? I’ll open the goddamn crate. If it’ll get you to stop focusing on it and get all you idiots to stop focusing on this Valentine’s Day bullshit! I don’t know why you’re so excited about this goddamn thing! There’s never anything insi—”

Everything stops. 

Dennis feels like someone came up behind him and snatched the breath out of his body. The fabric of his button-down seems like it’s tightening and holding him still, exactly where he is. He can’t tell if his brain is going faster than it’s ever gone before or if it’s completely shut down. He can’t move, he can’t speak, he can’t do anything but stare straight down at what’s below him. Because in the bottom of the stupid, goddamned, battered wooden crate, in the filthy, putrid alleyway behind the bar he’s wasted his life in, lying on top of a bed of dirty straw, is a rocket launcher. 

Slowly, Dennis regains feeling in his fingertips and it spreads up his arms, to his shoulders, to his chest, until he feels warm, and suddenly so overwhelmed. All he can do is put his hands on his hips and shift uncomfortably back and forth. He knows he has to do something, say something. As he works up the courage to meet Mac’s eyes, he mutters, “What’s this?”

“It’s a gift. I got it for you.” He says it in the airiest, most casual voice, like he just happened to pick up a box of Dennis’s favorite cookies when he was grocery shopping. But Dennis also hears a certainty in Mac’s voice. The kind of certainty that makes Dennis feel like he’s just been hit by a car again.

It’s barely a whisper when it leaves Dennis’s lips. “For me?” He knows he looks like an idiot, but he’s still frozen where he stands, staring at Mac in awe. 

All his life, he’s hated God. Hated the idea down to its very core. But as he’s standing here gaping, waiting for his brain to process the events going on around him, something clicks and Dennis thinks that maybe, just for one second, he understands.

His fingers ache to feel the cool metal of the weapon, and he slowly lowers himself down to the crate. “You uh...” His brain is still short-circuiting. He looks back up at Mac, hoping that in doing so he can take hold of even the smallest amount of the effortless certitude that Mac holds in this moment. “You got this...for me?”

“I ordered it off the dark web,” Mac says, so nonchalantly. So, so nonchalantly. And of course Mac would. Growing up with a piece of shit felon for a father, a callous, apathetic excuse for a mother, roughing it in South Philly almost on his own, of course he would make light of even the most damnable situations. “I wanted it to be a surprise.” 

Dennis curls his now functioning fingers around the weapon and thoughtlessly says, “Yeah.” It comes out as more of a breath. As he lifts the rocket launcher up out of the crate and looks down it end to end, truly takes it in in all its destructive beauty, his breathing starts to get heavier. “And how did you, um...” He sniffs. Oh, fuck.  _ Just finish this sentence _ , he tells himself. “How did you know that I wanted an RPG?” He feels his voice break and he’s suddenly filled with dread.

“‘Cause I know you, man.”

Dennis’s body almost go slack. He glances up at Mac and he feels his lower lip tremble and he knows what’s coming but he’s never felt more certain about anything in his entire life. He picks up the RPG and lifts it onto his shoulder, looking through the scope and picturing himself firing the rocket. He feels like a little kid when a tiny smile creeps onto his face and he says, “This is...this is cool.”

And Mac...goddamn it, Mac. It’s like he’s tapped right into Dennis’s brain, childlike eagerness and all when he rolls back onto his heels and says, “Wanna shoot it?” 

All his life, Dennis Reynolds has practiced restraint. He knows what to do to control himself. He knows what to do to stop himself from sobbing when the one person who’s understood him his entire life demonstrates it. And on of all the fucking days in the year, Valentine’s Day. His heart is pounding and his hands are shaking and he knows how to control himself. He turns away from Mac and keeps his eye on the weapon, only allowing one tiny glace toward Mac when he whispers, “Yeah.” He focuses his eye back on the scope and asks under his breath, “Where’s the rocket?” 

He looks anywhere but Mac’s direction, anywhere but the crate below as Mac digs around in the straw, mumbling to himself. “Yeah, that should be...uh, shit, I —”

Dennis looks down.

“There’s no rocket.” 

Mac’s worn, scarred hands that Dennis knows so well sift through the straw, looking for any sign of the ammunition. His voice is panicked but somehow still so soft and he says, “They forgot to put the rocket in there!” He rises to look at Dennis. “Dude, I’m so sorry!”

“Mac, I don’t care,” Dennis says slowly and deliberately. He shoots Mac a look to reassure him and takes a shaky breath. “I love it.” 

His hand strokes the side of the weapon, taking in the feeling of the cool metal and the smooth wooden siding. All these years of waiting, of wondering, of denying, and Dennis should have known. He doesn’t even have to turn his head to know that Mac is looking at Dennis like he put the fucking sun in the sky, and Dennis was so fucking stupid, and he realizes it now, but he was given so many chances before, and he should have seen it, and he’s shaking as he holds the rocket launcher in his arms and realizes it.

No one will ever understand him like Mac does, no one will ever get in his head like Mac does, no one will ever annoy the shit out of him like Mac does and no one in the world will ever love him like Mac does. And in that moment, Dennis realizes, too, that no one knows Mac like he does, no one understands Mac like he does, no one calms him or worries him or fucking loves him like Dennis does. 

So Dennis sets down the weapon, so gently, as gently as Mac had told him to open the crate in the first place. He walks towards Mac, pulls him close, and rests his head on Mac’s shoulder. Mac doesn’t seem startled, or apprehensive, or nervous when he wraps his arms around Dennis and rests his head against his. 

All his life, Dennis Reynolds has known that Mac is stupid, and he’s reckless, and he’s quick to anger, and all his life, Mac has felt like home. He knows that maybe they’re not always good for each other. But it doesn’t matter. With every passing second that Dennis realizes how much he needs Mac, he holds him that much tighter, and Dennis’s voice is soft when he says, “You figured out the one thing I wanted more than anything else in the entire world and you got it for me.” One of Mac’s hands splayed against Dennis’s upper back rubs slow circles as Dennis takes another deep, shaky breath. “And...it’s perfect.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Dennis sniffles, and the hot tears he’s been holding back start to slide down his cheeks. 

“Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! if u liked it feel free to leave kudos or (even better!!) a comment!
> 
> and if you REALLY liked it and want more of me and my macden feels, you can hit me up on my sunny stan twitter @bxdnew !!


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